The Treasure of the Jaguar Gods
by ShawnE1
Summary: Deep in the jungles of the Yukatan, lies the ruins of a forgotten realm, one steeped in dark magic and rich in gold. All Captain Jack Sparrow wants is the gold, savvy? But is the living key to the ruins the real treasure?
1. Default Chapter

The predawn breeze brushed across her sweat damp cheek like a gentle hand in a silken glove as she leaned against an indistinguishable palm. The moon had long since set and the vaulted sky was just starting to lighten in the east. The darkness remained absolute among the tangled growth blanketing the jagged hills, making the difficult task of forcing her way down to the port that much closer to impossible. She closed her eyes as she fought to slow her frantic heartbeat and gasping breath. She had never imagined it was possible to be this tired; this hurt on so many levels, and still be moving. It would be so easy to just lie down, to give up and wait for them to come. So very, very easy. But she couldn't, she owed too much to, to... she couldn't remember who. She could barely remember her own name. She pushed away from the rough trunk, hardly feeling the new scratches it left on her hands. The bundle on her back over balanced her, sending her crashing to her knees. An indelicate Spanish phrase fell from her lips.  
"What would yer sainted muther say, to hear ya speakin' so, lass?" The voice was male, deep and rolling with the touch of something Nordic underneath his cultured tones.  
"She'd agree with me," the girl panted, her head involuntarily sinking toward the sandy ground.  
"None of that now, Katherine!" There was only a mumbled nonsensical response. "I know you're exhausted, my sweet, but we're almost there. What's a few more minutes after almost three days of runnin'? C'mon Katherine-lass! Stay with me now!" The mumbles were fading into silence. "Your givin' me no choice, child."  
Katherine yelped, jerking her face up from the inviting ground. She glared blearily down at the cat at her side. "Get your claws out of my thigh this instant, Erik," she growled. Jeweled eyes blinked at her as he complied.  
"I'm sorry, lass," the cat whispered. He reared up on his hind legs, placing his forepaws on her bare collarbones and rubbed his head along her jaw line. She could feel the moist stickiness of the blood oozing from his split pads. "I'm so sorry for all of it." Katherine gathered him into her arms, burying her face in his matted fur, breathing deeply of the scent of damp fur mixed with the bitter tang of crushed herbs and dried blood. She might have fallen back asleep as she sat, but a long, low moan sounded above the rustle of the leaves. Cat and girl stiffened, the hair on the backs of their necks standing to attention. It could have been nothing more than two branches rubbing together in the breeze. It could have been a feral hog complaining in its sleep. But it wasn't. Nothing natural made noises that brushed across the mind like dirty fingers, leaving a film of filth behind, an unavoidable degradation.  
Terror and grief as sharp as a traitor's blade in the heart propelled Katherine to her feet. She tightened her grip on the feline in her arms as she forced her abused body into a stumbling trot.  
Erik struggled against her hold. "Let me down, lass!" She ignored him. His warm weight was the only comfort left in a nightmare world. He gave up quickly; he had had even less rest than she this past week and more. "To the left, to the left," he directed.  
Katherine obeyed silently, swerving to avoid a tree and falling into the ditch on the other side. She clamored to her feet immediately, feeling a faint hope for the first time in far too long as she realized the ditch edged a broad dirt road. It was the highroad that led along the spine of the island, connecting the sprawling plantations with the port of Belle sans Merci. "Thank the Good Lord," she muttered. The road fell away beneath her feet toward the town. It was close enough she could hear the waves lapping gentle at the long pier. She stretched out her senses, feeling ahead of her like her beloved nursemaid had taught her, looking for life, for the help she desperately needed. Almost immediately, she felt an answering brush of sensitivity. Someone or something unlike anything she had ever encountered before stirred. It was a shadow at the edge of sight, a voice muffled by great distance, somehow vaguely feminine, a powerful presence just beginning to stir from its slumber and turn its other worldly attention toward her. Katherine froze, her nerve shattered by the encounter, unable to respond as the presence reached out for her.  
"Katherine!" Erik gasped. The woman jerked her paralysis dropping from her at the sound of the familiar voice. She dropped her gaze to the cat in her arms, thinking he too had sensed the presence, but his attention was fixed over her shoulder. She spun unsteadily on her heel to see what had dragged that pain-filled sound from his lips. Her eyes followed the line of the road to the crest of the hill a few yards above them. A pair of pale forms plodded over the peak of the rise, moving with a strange combination of stiffness and grace that no living creature could emulate. Even before the lightening sky revealed their faces, she guessed who and what they were. There were no words to describe the horror and sheer pain the sight drove into her soul. She knew them, she knew the men they had once been. Their dark faces were familiar, as much a part of her family as her blood kin despite the fact that they were technically her property in the eyes of the law and society. Micah's ground rumbling bass had sung her to sleep when childhood illnesses had left her weak and restless. Peter was only a few years older than she was. He had been the one to teach the master's daughter to climb trees and to fish in the streams criss-crossing the plantation. A voice caressed her mind, whispered to her to run to them, to throw herself into their arms and let them take her home. Katherine shut her mind to that insidious whisper, her heart recognizing it for the lie it was. She had watched them fall defending her, giving their lives so that she could flee into the wild lands. Evil had snatched them from their rightful rest and sent them after the woman they had died to protect, compelled their animate corpses to drag her back to the very person that had killed them. The person who had done this was cruelty incarnate, possessed of a sadism that would shame Lucifer himself. She couldn't face that monster, not here, not now. All she could do was run.  
Katherine tightened her grip on Erik and fled toward Belle sans Merci. She would take her chances with the amorphous shadowy presence waiting below. Within a few steps, her breath was already labored. Only the downhill incline allowed her to keep running. Signs of civilization began appearing along the side of the rutted road: broken bits of wood and leather too worthless to be collected by even the poorest, the reeking jumble of the tannery, outlying storage buildings and paddocks, then the first of the human houses appeared perched along the uneven slope of the hill. It was so early that even the slaves and the lowest class of freemen were still abed, their low-slung homes silent and seemingly deserted. Katherine made no attempt to awaken them. It would only put them in needless danger; they would not even have weapons. She had to make it to the other side of the town, to the harbormaster's compound and the soldiers that would be barracked there.  
When she stumbled over a half-seen bit of rubbish, Erik demanded to be put down. The cat wove a path through the increasingly narrow streets, his pale fur luminescent enough in the darkness that Katherine could follow him with relative ease. Ramshackle houses gave way to the great warehouses where tobacco and sugar cane and the other raw products of the plantations waited to be sold. Then came the docks with their jumble of waiting cargo and bits and pieces of nautical supplies. The presence was stronger here, the weight of its drifting insubstantial shadow slowing her already faltering steps. Fear and the liberal use of nearby piles of crates and the heavy pilings that made up the wooden docks' supports were all that were keeping her on her feet.  
Erik suddenly stopped his back bowing as he hissed a feline curse. Katherine traced his line of sight and felt her heart stop in her chest. Another of pair of animated corpses was between them and the rest of the town. Empty eyes locked on her. Another of those mind-bruising moans shivered through the predawn air, drawing an answering moan from the two behind them. Katherine twisted to look over her shoulder at their pursuers. They were so close, so very close. In desperation, following the prompting of some deep instinct, she reached out with her heart toward that strange shadowy presence. She felt its surprise and confusion as if no one had ever truly acknowledged its existence. It swirled around her, brushing against like a giant invisible cat. No, it felt more like the rush of the wind and the sea as a great ship cut through the waves. It was examining her, questioning her even though it had no words, only ghostly sensation and tangible emotion. "Please," Katherine murmured, "please, help us." The presence pulled back a bit. Even without words, Katherine knew it was asking 'now why ever should I do that, luv?'. Silently, she nudged the presence's focus toward the undead creatures stalking steadily toward them.  
Katherine went to her knees as a storm of anger, loathing, and hatred flooded over her soul. Apparently, the mysterious presence did not approve of the undead. Erik leapt into her arms, terrified by the sudden unexpected barrage of dark emotions. Only the fact that it wasn't directed toward them kept them from withering under the assault. Unfortunately, the four walking corpses were utterly unaffected by it; they were dead, their souls gone to the next world. It ended as quickly as it had begun. Katherine staggered to her feet. The presence tugged at her heart, urging her to go out along the long main pier. She obeyed, too tired to resist even though she knew that it was utter foolishness to trust an unknown inhuman entity. Erik squirmed down out her arms to pad silently along behind her.  
"If you've got some destination in mind, Katherine-lass, you'd best hurry," Erik whispered. "Those poor creatures are on our heels."  
"I know, I know... My God!" Katherine stared at the only tall ship tied up in Belle sans Merci harbor. The smaller local vessels looked like scruffy mutt-terriers next to the polished greyhound grace of the dark ship. Backlit by the first rays of the rising sun, she seemed to be a hole cut in the dying night, as mysterious and restless as the sea itself. At first, Katherine thought the presence was on the ship, but the ship soon set her straight. It, no, she - it was definitely a 'she'- was very much alive and aware. Katherine paused on the pier, the near end of the gangplank at her feet. The ship urged her to board quickly, but Katherine resisted. How could she do this? How could she blindly board a strange, living ship? An undead moan shattered her resistance to the ship's call; she took a few steps up the gangplank before she even realized she was moving.  
"What the bleedin' 'ell!" a gruff voice bellowed. "Here, yer supposed to be watchin', not sleepin'!" A string of creative invective followed. Cat and woman froze on the bobbing gangplank, but the voice and its accompanying footsteps moved quickly toward the bow. Katherine scurried the rest of the distance up to the deck and paused to crouch behind the ornately carved railing to peer down at her pursuers. All four of the undead had stopped on the pier some distance away. To her immense unbelieving relief, they turned and shambled back into the town.  
"Katherine!" Erik hissed, "The creatures are gone. Let's get to the harbormaster while the way's clear."  
Katherine shook her head drunkenly. She was so, so tired. "No." She felt the ship agreeing with her. A wordless whisper pointed her gaze toward an open hatch. "We'll hide here 'til full daylight." She ignored the cat's protests and crawled over to open hatch. Somehow, she managed to shimmy down the ladder leading into the depths of the ship. Luck, or the strange ship's will, were with her as she managed to avoid running into any crewmen. Once in the hold, she felt her way through the absolute darkness to a pile of bundles of some sort, it felt like bolts of cloth wrapped in heavy canvas. She climbed on top of the pile, slithering across it until she reached the rough wood of the hull. It seemed to take forever to shift the bundle strapped to her back around to her front. She wrapped her arms around what was for all intents and purposes the only possessions she had left and snuggled down against the wooden hull.  
"This is not a good idea, lass," Erik warned once again.  
"Can't, can't go back out in the dark. Wake me... daylight," Katherine mumbled, her eyes already closed. The relative safety of the ship relaxed her enough that she could no longer fight off the sleep she desperately needed.  
Erik watched as his charge slowly tilted over to lie on her side, her back against the hull, her body curled into a tight a wad as she could manage. He breathed a sigh and an ancient Norse curse. There was nothing he could do. It wasn't like her could pick her up and carry her to safety. Maybe it was smarter to wait until morning. Although daylight in no way deterred the creatures that had chased them all the way across this thrice damned island, he doubted that they could wander around Belle sans Merci without someone recognizing them for what they were and destroying them. "A few hours of rest can't hurt, I suppose," he whispered. The cat leapt lightly up onto Katherine and lay down in the curve of her waist, his head propped on her hip. "I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes, lass, just a few minutes." 


	2. TofJG: Chapter One

A/N I am truly enjoying writing this story. I hope ya'll are enjoying reading it. Please drop a lil' ol' review in my box. cue big doe eyes

Disclaimer: All canon characters and settings belong to Disney. All original characters and story elements belong to me.

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Joshua Gibbs was a substantially happier man than he had been just a few hours ago. He never did like it when the Black Pearl dropped anchor at Belle sans Merci. The superstitious sailor was firmly convinced that it was dreadful bad luck to spend time in a place named after a murdering ghost. Of course, that never stopped him from taking advantage of shore leave. It'd take more than bad luck to keep him away from the rum and pleasurable company to be found in the dockside taverns. The old sailor grinned to himself. His itches were scratched for the time being and now they were back at sea, where they belong, and no bad luck seemed to have followed them aboard.  
  
He lifted the lantern higher as he examined the contents of the hold. The supplies they had taken on in port looked to be properly settled, but he was going to make doubly sure. O'Hara had been in charge of stowing the stores and Gibbs simply did not trust the gunnery mate's competence, especially after discovering him asleep on watch last night. Gibbs' smile turned into a scowl. He wished he'd objected when Jack had hired on the Irishman. Toby was brilliant in battle, but... Gibbs' ship of thought hit a hidden reef and sunk like a rock when the lantern's light suddenly reflected off a pair of glowing eyes atop a pile of cargo. "Mother o' God!" he gasped, reaching for the knife on his belt. He slumped in relief when those eyes leapt down to deck to reveal themselves to be attached to large yellow cat. "'ere, now. Where did ye come from?" The cat just sat down at his feet and blinked up at him. Gibbs stooped to run a work- roughened hand over the cat's head, grinning when deep rumbling purr issued from the animal. "Do ye be lookin' for a berth on the Pearl, puss? Wouldn't be a pleasure cruise, savvy? Be hard work for ya' chasin' rats and such."  
  
"Erik?" It was a thin, uncertain voice, piping high like a child's and muddled with sleep. "Erik, why is the bed moving?" There was a pause in which Mr. Gibbs straightened up to peer on top of the pile of bolts of cloth. His jaw dropped at the sight of a fine boned hand reaching up over the back of the pile. "This isn't my bed, is it?" the voice continued rather plaintively.  
  
"Bleedin' 'ell!"  
  
Johnny, the tiny, wiry thirteen year old cabin boy, was hurrying down a passageway to the hold when he ran smack into the first mate. Normally, Mr. Gibbs would have laughed off such an occurrence, but he seemed to be in a very foul mood today. The boy flinched and scurried backwards on his backside at the sight of the man's ferocious scowl. "Boy!" Gibbs barked, "ask the Cap'n to come to t' quarterdeck. Move yer bloomin' arse!" Johnny ran as if the hounds of hell were at his heels back toward the captain's quarters, sparing only a brief flash of pity for whatever crewman Mr. Gibbs was dragging along behind him.  
  
"Cap'n!" Johnny called as he pounded on the door leading into the big stern quarters. "Cap'EN!" The cabin boy's voice scaled up into an embarrassing squeak when the door was suddenly opened, causing him to almost fall in at the captain's feet.  
"And what," a disgruntled and even more dishelmed than usual Jack Sparrow asked, "is so bleedin' important that ye come pounding on my door and interruptin' me well earned hangover? Best be very important, nay life- threatening, or someone will be seein' Davy Jones' Locker first hand, savvy?"  
  
"Mr. Gibbs wants ya' on the quarterdeck, Cap'n Sparrow, sir," Johnny answered softly.  
  
"Aye, aye," Jack sighed, waving one bejeweled hand in a random shooing motion and rubbing the other over his bleary eyes. He turned back into the cabin to grab up his effects. "This better damn well be worth it, Gibbs," he muttered to himself as he plopped his precious hat on his aching head.  
  
As he reluctantly climbed the stairs up to the quarterdeck, Jack heard a cold, aristocratic and decidedly female voice laying down the law. "You will remove your hands from my person this instant, sirrah, or I will see you answer to a higher authority." Jack clattered the rest of the way up the stairs, slowing down to assume his normal jovial, slightly drunken mannerisms when he stepped up on the deck. Ever the captain, he glanced quickly at the helm to make sure that the crewman there was attending his duties before nonchalantly ambling toward the unusual tableau near the aft railing. Mr. Gibbs and a few other crewman were standing in a loose circle around a young woman he had never had the pleasure of meeting. She was tall for a woman and slender. A tangled mass of auburn hair tumbled raggedly down her back, liberally decorated with what seemed at least half of tree's worth of leaves and twigs. Wary hazel eyes watched his approach carefully out of a haggard, sun burnt face. She wore the remains of what looked like a very expensive gray linen riding habit with a distracting bit shrubbery lodged in her sun-reddened cleavage.  
  
Jack sauntered over to her, ignoring the rolled bundle and the large yellow cat at her feet. Grinning crookedly, he reached over plucked that sprig of greenery from its resting place. The woman flinched as his rough fingers brushed lightly across swell of her breasts, but she didn't pull away and her eyes remained steadily on his the whole time. He leaned close, bending down slightly so that he could peer up at her. "What do we 'ave here, Mr. Gibbs?"  
  
"A stowaway, Cap'n," the first mate answered promptly, "Found 'er in the hold." His voice dropped to a stage whisper. "Dreadful bad luck to 'ave a woman on board, 'specially a stowaway one."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes at the predictable comment. "Yes, Mr. Gibbs," he sighed over his shoulder. "What were you doin' in the hold, luv?" He focused his dark, kohl-rimmed eyes on the girl's face.  
  
"Sleeping," she answered shortly, "Until your," she paused, searching for a sufficiently derogatory term, but settled on letting her disdainful tone speak for itself. "Your crewman decided it was proper conduct to be dragging me out of my slumber and onto your deck." She tilted her head to side to fling a pointed glance around him at Mr. Gibbs. "Railing at me all the while as if I were a common criminal." Despite her ragged appearance, she looked very much the part of the wronged upper crust lady, as cold and distant as Norrington at his worst.  
  
"Hate t' break this to you, luv, but ye are a common criminal." Her attention snapped back to him. "Sneakin' aboard a ship, slippin' down to the hold up to who knows what mischief," he trailed a hand down her arm as he circled her like a shark. "Stowing away," he whispered into the back of her neck. She lifted her skirt to reveal seam-split once-dainty boots as she stepped over the rolled bundle to get away from him. Jack grinned at her obvious distain. "That's a flogging offence, m'dear." His grin fell into momentary confusion as the cat stepped between them and began growling, every hair on its body standing out straight in pure feline menace. "Quite the, um, watch-cat you've got there, luv."  
  
"My name, sir, is Katherine, not 'dear' or 'luv' or any other endearment you care to bandy about," she said sharply, regaining the handsome, if filthy man's entirely too enthralling dark gaze. "And you are?"  
  
"I am Captain Jack Sparrow!" he exclaimed proudly, doffing his worn tri-corner hat and bowing extravagantly to the luke-warm applause of the watching crewmembers. "Captain of the Black Pearl, the fastest ship in the Caribbean, the scourge of the Seven Seas..." Jack continued expounding on his two favorite themes: himself and his ship, in great, doubtless highly exaggerated detail.  
  
"That explains much," Katherine muttered to herself as she watched the pirate captain fluff his ego. She closed her eyes and sagged to the deck in relief, her lips moving in silent prayer. Feeling a shadow on her face, she opened her eyes and looked up to see the dread pirate Sparrow standing above her.  
  
"I see you've heard of me," he grinned showing far too many gold teeth to healthy, His smile took on a softer edge as he noticed that all the aristocratic hauteur had fled from her face and the set of her shoulders, leaving only loss and grief in her eyes. Despite the womanly curves of her body, she suddenly seemed to be little more than a lost child huddled on his deck. "But there's no need for such a bonny lass to be swoonin' at me feet."  
  
Katherine's gaze dropped to her ruined clothing and the bloody scratches adding variety to her otherwise sun-ravaged skin. She was a pathetic sight and she knew it. She hated showing weakness before this scoundrel and his crew of ruffians, but she was too tired to do anything about it. The few hours of rest she had received were like a cup of water to a man dying from thirst: enough to keep going, but not enough for comfort. She fought the urge to curl up where she was and go back to sleep, to let the numbness strip her of the rest of her purpose and identity. It would be so much easier to just let the pirates do as they wished with her. But she couldn't take that chance. She had to get word of the attack to the Royal Navy. The dead deserved their vengeance, vengeance she could not give them alone. She had to live to reach Port Royale and Fort Charles. Nothing else mattered. The decision made, hazel eyes rose to meet chocolate brown and the magical word fell from her lips. "Parley."


End file.
